The Other Woman
by xXACCEBXx
Summary: Just my luck, I meet this amazing guy, just to find out he broke my best friend’s heart to date me. But I REALLY like him, like, he might be the one. Did I happen to mention this boy is Nick Jonas? Nilly. Future fic. Rated for Language.
1. Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop

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The Other Woman

**Summary:**

**Just my luck, I meet this amazing guy, just to find out he broke my best friend's heart to date me. But I REALLY like him, like, he might be the one. Did I happen to mention this boy is Nick Jonas?**

**Chapter One**

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. I had been held back late at work and I was supposed to be picking up Miley's dry-cleaning at the Chinese Laundromat that closes in four minutes. I glare at my watch, trying to make the hands spin backwards, but I have no such luck. I run up to the door, just as the owner turns the closed sign over. I pound on the door, but suddenly he has reverted back to Chinese and has no idea what 'Open Please!' means. Figures.

I have no choice but to call it a loss. Miley is going to furious, but it's not like I'm not used to her wrath by now. The city has done strange things to us, but I'm still glad we're roommates, if for no other reason but she usually ends up holding up my side of the rent.

I shake my head and take a sip of my coffee. Who knew they could make cappuccino taste like cupcakes? I pull my coat tighter to me against the bitter January frost. Who'd known that Manhattan could be this cold? You'd think that the exhaust alone could keep this place tropical all year.

I stepped out of the doorway and into the flow of foot traffic. I was finally getting used to the massive flow of people that fluctuate through the city all day, along with the subways and the taxis. I still wondered at it like a small child sometimes. Even the snow had taken me by surprise. I had danced on the sidewalk in front of our condo for almost half an hour before Miley called me in, something about catching cold. She sounded so much like my mother sometimes. I smiled at the criticism of my best friend.

I'm still amazed we've been able to stick it out so long. We're so different it's ridiculous. But I guess opposites attract. I haven't seen much of her lately though. She's had a lot of fashion spreads lately, and some new boyfriend she's hiding from me. Good for her though, it's been a while since her last big breakup. I'm still staying out of the dating scene, hoping that one day I'll just trip over the perfect guy. I giggled at the thought.

I got a few strange looks, giggling at myself. These are the times I wish owned one of those Bluetooth headsets. Do you realize how many people get away with laughing at themselves just by having one of those stupid things in their ear?

Instead I pull out my iPod and put it on shuffle. The Clash comes roaring through the ear buds, which turn a few more heads, enough for me to turn it down. I walk like this for a few more blocks, quietly sipping my coffee and listening to Euro-punk, counting the blocks until home. 12-11-10-9…

I pause for only second in front of a newsstand, seeing one of Miley's covers and smiling. Then I grab the Mirror and dig through until I find my article. One day I'll be on the front page, but today I'm on page…17D? I'll take what I can get.

I take another step in what I think is the right direction, but I forget I'm in the reverse flow of traffic and crash headfirst into another innocent bystander. My coffee and briefcase fall directly into the flow of loafers and stilettos, and I watch as the man ducks to pick up the leather brand-name briefcase Miley bought me when I first got published. The coffee was beyond lost.

He ducked into the small alcove created by the newsstand and handed the case back to me. I looked at him for the first time. He looked my age, skinny, tall, and had dark, curly hair that refused to be tamed by the fedora he had tried to cover it with. He took off his sunglasses to look at me and a wave of instant recognition hit me.

"You're Nick Jonas," I said, forgetting to pause for three seconds like Miley told me to.

"Please don't scream," he said, covering his eyes again.

"We're both adults here. I won't scream like a teenage girl," I said, covering my mouth to let out a squeal. Hey, I tried.

He shook his head and I realized this had probably happened to him a thousand and one times over the course of his life. "I'm sorry, habit. I'm Lilly. Thanks for picking up my briefcase, one more stiletto and it would have been toast. If only my coffee had fared better."

I held out my hand and he shook it. I could feel the instant warmth surge up my arm. I looked up into his dark glasses and I could feel that my eyes were connecting with his, even through the lenses. As if to prove me right, he lifted the frames and his eyes bore down on mine.

"It's cold out here. There's a Starbucks at the end of this block. Do you mind if I replace that spilled coffee?"

I thought for a second and then did the only rational thing I could think of. I slapped myself across the face; and it hurt like a mother. I held the side of my face as Nick looked at me questioningly.

"Do you make a habit of slapping yourself across the face?"

"Only when I have to question my own eyes…and ears," I said, trying to recover. I could only hope I hadn't left a hand-shaped mark on my face.

"So, about that coffee?" he continued. I was amazed he was still up for it. I mean, I'd pretty much just admitted I was completely insane. I would have run away from me.

"I'm game if you are," I answered. I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. This is Nicholas Jerry Jonas we're talking about. You just don't screw with that.

We were both smart enough not to try to start a conversation over the noise of the city. As soon as we hit the door of the Starbucks, the wave of warmth hit me. I am so glad I'm doing this, if only for sheer heat.

I give him my order as I take possession of one of the little bistro tables. I pick up the Mirror on the tabletop and leaf through it to admire my little smidgeon of an article. I already had one framed at home, and I'd sent a copy back to my mom. What can I say, it was my baby.

Nick came and sat down across from me and sat the cup in front of me. I picked it up and held it for a second, just for the warmth. I took a sip, but it was still too hot to swig. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes, and I am the first one to acknowledge awkward silences.

"Do you know that lake in Central Park? The one with the ducks?" I ask. I've found the question an easy conversation starter. He nods, so I continue. "Where do the ducks go this time of year?"

He ponders it for a second before answering. "South I guess. Even the geese go south. Why do you ask?"

"Just a question. When I got to Manhattan, I was winging it from Catcher in the Rye. Holden asks that question and never really gets an answer. I'm still trying to find it."

"I'm sorry, I've never read it," he said, still amused by my question.

"Really? Well, I guess it was a cover…" he looks at me questionably again. "_Sometimes I feel like the Catcher in the Rye, sometimes I wish that I could catch your eye…_"

"I think I underestimated your fandom Miss Lilly," he said, chuckling to himself.

"Oh, so many do. But we all have our dirty little secrets don't we Mr. Jonas," I said, flirtingly. I do have my Elizabeth Bennet moments now and then.

"It seems you have an unfair advantage over me Lilly. You know so much about me, and I know almost nothing about you."

I shake my head, knowing I'll probably tell him my life story, but I start, "My name is Lilly Truscott. I'm from Malibu, and I'd never seen snow until last year. I moved out here with my best friend so she could be a model and I could be a journalist. I just finished up at NYU last year after transferring from U of C Berkeley. I am under contract with the Mirror, even though I'm on page 17D. I live nine blocks that way."

I finished by pointing in the direction I'd been heading in when we, uh, ran into each other. He looked at me, just watching me for a few minutes before continuing.

"Mets or Yankees?"

"Dodgers, which counts because they should still be in Brooklyn. I know you're a Yankees fan, but you just can't beat the Dodgers. Babe Ruth, Jackie Robison…"

"Okay, okay, you've made your point. Costello or Presley?"

"Hmm, battle of the Elvis. Clever. Hmm, tie. Personally, I'd rather listen to Costello, but you can't beat the King. Period."

"Spaghetti or Sushi?"

"Real Italian cooking versus raw fish? You're kidding right?"

"Blazing Saddles or Holy Grail?"

"Are you truly making me choose between Mel Brooks and Monty Python? That's like choosing between…I can't even find an equal genius comparison! Hmm, Blazing Saddles. Crossed more lines. 'Where all the white women at?'" I said, quoting the movie.

We bantered on like this for almost two hours. I don't know about him, but I completely lost track of time. Miley would be wondering what happened to me. We were both still getting used to the city, and I knew my first instinct would be that she had gotten mugged, or raped, or kidnapped. I could only hope her mind wasn't as melodramatic as mine.

"I'm sorry Nick. I should probably get going. My roommate's going to worry. We're both new to the city, and I don't need her putting up missing posters before I get home. The coffee was great…"

"Why is this goodbye? Can I at least walk you home?"

I actually had to think on it for a minute. Its not like I don't want to stay with him, even for a little bit longer, but I have never been good at the whole dropping-off-at-the-doorstep concept. I took one look up into his dark eyes and my defenses crumble.

"Are you sure? I mean you must have better things to do…"

"Nope," he said, completely cutting off my rambling. "Left right?" he said as we came out the door.

"Right"

"Like, right left, or right right?"

"This way," I answer him, dragging him by his elbow into the traffic flowing to the left. Once we had adjusted to the flow of people, I dropped my arm.

I start to realize how cold it really is and I start to blow on my fingertips, realizing how pointless fingerless gloves are. Nick took notice.

"I don't understand you girls and wearing those stupid fingerless gloves. Your fingertips are going to freeze, which is not fashionable. Gangrene is not sexy!" As he ranted he took off his leather gloves and made me put them on.

"Well aren't your hands going to freeze now, genius?"

"Well, this one can go in my pocket, but you'll just have to keep this one from falling off," he said, smiling as he took my hand. I could tell my cheeks were getting pinker, but I was really hoping he blamed it on the cold.

We walked in silent comfort for the next few blocks, and I couldn't help but look up at his face every once in a while to check. Yes, I am really holding hands with Nick Jonas.

We got to the doorstep and I felt this overwhelming feeling of not wanting it to end. I could tell he felt the same way by the way he looked at me and refused to let go of my hand. He stared at me for a few moments before dropping my hand. I went to take the gloves off, but he stopped me.

"Keep them. I'd rather you had all your fingers next time I see you."

It was sweet and I held them to my heart. I realized he said next time and my heart jumped. He wanted to see me again.

"Well what are you going to do? Your hands will freeze."

He reached out and cupped my cheek with the hand I had been holding. Whether it was the fact my cheek was so cold or not, I'll never know, but his touch burned. At the same time he leaned toward me and I could feel his breath hot on my face.

"I don't think they'll freeze," he said, suave and sexy as hell. I felt about a bazillion degrees at my core, and I was literally burning up, no pun intended. I didn't think it could get any hotter, but it did. He leaned toward me and gave me the lightest kiss I've ever experienced. Our lips barely touched, but the jolt that went through me was everything but. He pulled away and it looked like he was guilt tripping himself.

His face changed though as he asked me, "Can I have your number?"

When he asked me, I could barely remember, but I put the digits into his cell phone, Nick Jonas's cell phone.

He stood there and watched me go up the stairs. I held my breath and counted the steps I took up to the door, not putting it past prior experiences to trip and break my head open. I almost expected it. I turned around one last time and smiled at him, just to see him smiling back, his hands rooted in his pockets. I could feel his gloves in mine.

As soon as I entered the hallway, I heard furious footsteps coming down the stairs. I should have been home hours ago…

"Lillian Rebecca! Where do you think you've been?" I started to unravel my layers, holding for the rant, still unable to wipe the smile off my face.

"Out…" I said, trying my best to walk away from her and toward the kitchen, but I heard the tapping of her heels as she followed.

"And where is my dry-cleaning that I asked you to pick up…hold it a second, is that look what I think it is?"

I instinctively frowned and looked at the floor, but I could feel myself blushing. "What look? I have a look?"

"You met somebody! An XY-chromosome somebody! Is he cute, smart, funny? Details!" I swear I didn't hear her breathe once in that entire statement.

"All of the above, but that's all you're going to get Miss I've-Been-dating-a-guy-for-three-weeks-and-still-remain-totally-cryptic."

"Oh crap! Speaking of tall, dark and none of your business, I'm late! I think we're going to move up a level in our relationship tonight…"

As she reached for the knob I asked, "What level would that be?"

She winked just as the door closed, "Ciao!"

I shook my head and laughed a little to myself. Good old Miley. She was never going to change, and for once I was sort of glad.

I debated my options for the night. This could very likely be my last night of being single for a while, I could only hope. I could stay home and have a chick flick night.

Even though the six hour long BBC version of Pride & Prejudice was calling my name, I had a feeling I'd rather get out. I called Erika, this girl I worked with, and asked her if she had plans. She was as single as I was, so we decided to go to one of the local 'shitstops on the way to fame' locales.

I met her at the door, where the bouncer, who knew me by name by now, let us in. The place smelled heavily of cigarette smoke and spilled drinks, but it was starting to grow on me. I'd been dragged here on a date once, and I had grown more attached to the place than I had the guy. Some band that sounded sort of like early Green Day slash Fall Out Boy was rocking their set. I don't think Erika had ever been here before because her hand was hovering close to her nose, waiting to plug it.

"It's fine!" I screamed at her over the music as I found a table near the bar. We ordered drinks and I asked her what was going on. I noticed that she was already distracted by a guy at the bar who was making eyes at her, but she answered me anyway.

"The Announcements section isn't exactly the front page, but after 27 Dresses, it seems a little better. How about you? I saw the article on 17D. Not bad for only being here a year. It was on that Soup Kitchen on 4th right? Cool stuff."

"Yeah, not the only thing that's going right though. I met this guy today, and he was into me, but something was holding him back. I don't know. Is that normal guy behavior?"

"There is no such thing as normal guy behavior. Guys are genetically abnormal. What's his name?" she leaned forward, able to ignore the eyes staring at her from the bar for at least a few moments.

"That's the thing. You remember the Jonas Brothers right? Pop band, good hair…"

"Yeah, sure. I had their posters all over my walls when I was a teenager. What, does he look like one of them or something?"

I smirked and looked away, hoping she would get the hint. She did.

"You mean…ohmigod! Which one?"

"Nick, and he's as cute as ever. And he's as amazing as any fangirl's dream. But I don't know if anything will come of it. I mean, he is Nick Jonas!"

"And you're Lilly Truscott, future award-winning journalist," she said, writing the sentence with her hands. "Don't put yourself down. You're a pretty awesome gal."

We both smiled before I saw her eyes dart back over to the bar, where the guy looked like he was asking his friend whether or not he should come over here. I took one look at Erika and said, "Go ask him to dance, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure, I mean this was supposed to be a girl's night. You're positive right?" she was actually worried about me. Odd considering Miley, who would have forgotten I existed had an opportunity like this had arisen.

"140%. Go on, you're getting older by the second."

She walked over to the bar and then off to the dance floor. I smiled and closed my eyes, just getting into the music. It could have been hours for all I knew, but my phone started vibrating. I looked at the new text and couldn't help hoping it was Nick, but I recognized the number as Miley's. The message was short.

**HE DUMPED ME. I NEED YOU, BEN, AND JERRY. LUVZ YA – MILEZ**

I shook my head. I was alone anyway, why not? Erika could keep herself busy for the rest of the night. I looked toward the dance floor and I couldn't see her, so I did the next best thing. I walked over to the bar and found the guy who'd been talking to Erika's guy.

"You came here with that guy dancing with my friend right?" he nodded, looking a little dazed.

"When they get back here…wait a minute. What's nine times seven?"

"Sixty-three?"

"Oh good, you're not wasted. When they get back, tell her Miley needed me and I had to leave. Got that?"

He nodded again. Satisfied, I pushed my way through the people and out into the night air. It was actually a beautiful night, between the fresh air and the urban symphony of horns and sirens. I had realized I was a city girl almost as soon as I got here. Don't get me wrong, the beaches of Malibu are amazing, but this feels even homier than that to me. This is home.

I stopped at the Rite-Aid on the corner and picked up the pints of ice cream, Cherry Garcia for me, Half Baked for her. On the next block I stopped at Blockbuster and rented the usual "John Tucker Must Die" and "Say Anything" to watch once Miley cried herself to sleep.

Finally, I came to the doorstep and took a deep breath. This was going to be a long night. Each break up to Miley is the end of the world. Time for the apocalypse.

As soon as I dropped the keys in the bowl by the door, I could hear her sobbing in the living room. I double checked the bags to make sure I had everything, just putting off the inevitable.

"Lilly, is that you?"

I inwardly groaned before yelling back, "Yeah, and I come bearing John Tucker and Half-Baked."

I stopped in the kitchen and picked up two spoons then dropped on the couch. As far as I could tell, she'd been alternating through the endings of Tuck Everlasting, Titanic, and Tristan + Isolde. That kind of stuff could make a unicorn cut itself.

"Lilly, you're a godsend. I know I'm a handful, and I'm sorry," I knew she was just being overemotional, but I pretended she meant it. I walked over to the TV and put in the DVD as she dug into the carton of ice cream.

"So, what happened?" I said, planning to let her vent without actually listening.

"Well, he took me out to eat, and everything was going great. I mean, he was amazing, and a total gentleman. But then I moved to kiss him and he stopped me. He told me that he thought we should break up. He said there was some other girl, and he thought he loved her. I asked him how long he's known her and he told me a few hours, but how could you possibly know you love someone in a matter of hours? So I poured my drink all over him and left. You think I'd have learned after Jake not to date celebrities."

By now she had my full attention. This all sounded oddly familiar.

"He's a celebrity? Would I know him?"

"You should. You've pretty much been in love with him since we were thirteen…" Oh no.

" Cute and sensitive my ass. Nick Jonas is the bastard who broke up with me."

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**So guys, I've been being pressed to write a new chapter story since I finished Freedom, and I think this is it. Keep in mind that, like Lilly, my Manhattan experience comes from Catcher in the Rye, Just My Luck, The Devil Wears Prada, and an actress friend of mine who lives in Astoria. I'm in suburban Detroit, and the closest I've been to NYC is Buffalo. I hope I have it right though. Anyway, I appreciate constructive criticism, as well as fluffy awesome reviews. Whatev. Just leave feedback :)**


	2. Till We Ain't Strangers Anymore

**Hmm…sorry guys. Really, I owe you all a thousand pardons for my tardiness. Wow, I really need to take a step away from the Jane Austen. The computer I started this on was on the fritz and I've been working off another one, but I'm back, and I'm terribly sorry. So yeah, my speed needs improvement. Anyway, don't yell at me for making this totally unrealistic and romantic. I like unrealistic and romantic.**

**Disclaimer: I wish I had enough control of the Jonas Brothers that Nick would have taken his shirt off in the 3D movie, but sadly I don't have that kind of power. Sorry, Spiderman quotes are running through my head.**

**Chapter Two**

I don't think Miley even realizes that she snores. I guess she thinks she's too perfect to snore, but everyone has their imperfections. Currently, my biggest is that I'm in a love triangle with my best friend and a Jonas Brother.

But hey, what else is new, right?

I try to move her feet off my lap without waking her, but I'm pretty sure Bon Jovi could show up in our living room and start belting 'Livin' On A Prayer" and she would start sucking her thumb like a baby. As expected, she doesn't even stir as I stand up and walk over to the TV, pausing for only a second to see John Tucker get told, before I turn it off.

My plans for Say Anything don't quite sound rational anymore. Even John Cusack can't cure the guilt I feel right now.

I don't know what I should do. I can't hurt Miley by dating Nick, but if I was worth breaking up with Miley, should I really just leave him out in the cold?

Suddenly I have one of those awkward movie focuses on my phone on the counter. It's not ringing or anything. It's just sitting there, taunting me.

Should I really call him? Is that opening up a can of worms that should remain deadbolted? Who am I kidding? He didn't even give me his phone number. But there is the phone book…

But would he really be in the phone book? Come on.

I go to the front closet and take down the phone book for curiosity's sake. I realize that to find one N Jonas in Manhattan has some horrible statistics. I mean, I'm sure I could win the lottery, get bit by a shark, and get hit by lighting, within five minutes of each other, and my chances would still be higher. Or maybe that's just my kind of luck.

Then I realize that one think happened today may have changed my luck and decide to try it. I find the list of Nicholas Jonas' in the book and close my eyes. I let my finger drift over the identical names, and let it fall upon one.

I pick up my phone on the counter and dial the number, knowing the whole time that my mission is stupid but still holding my breath as it starts to ring.

"Mmm…Hello?" I hear on the other end of the line. It sounds like I've woken the guy up and I feel bad for a second, but then I realize, I know that voice!

"Is this Nick Jonas, like Jonas Brothers, burnin' up for you baby, Nick Jonas?"

"Who's this?" he grumbled; obviously not glad to be woken up.

"Do you still have your hands, or have they frozen off like I told you they would?"

"Lilly," he breathed on the other end. I've never heard a guy say my name like that. It was so…hot.

"Wow, I can't believe you remember my name. Well I sort of hoped you did, because otherwise you met someone else between my door and well, my door. I forgot to thank you for letting me spend my night soaked in my best friend's tears!"

"Shit," he said. For someone with the songwriting skills of a God, he seemed to be unable to form sentences after midnight. But then he surprised me with some fully-formed dialogue.

"I'm sorry about that, but I couldn't lead her on. I just couldn't stop thinking about you, and through the whole date, I just kept fazing out and letting my mind go back to Starbucks."

"That's…" I sighed. "Amazing actually. I've never had a guy think about me when they were on a date with someone else, unless they were in the process of cheating on me. Which has happened too much for my liking. But she's my best friend Nick? How can I go out with you when you broke her heart?"

"Not to sound insensitive, but I hardly broke her heart. We dated for two weeks!"

"To Miley, every break up is like a messy divorce. She stews over them forever."

"So, you admit she'll be over this? So there's no reason for us not to go out?" he said convincingly. I felt myself being pushed into a corner.

"Well, yes. But I still don't know if she'll be okay with it this soon. I could probably think of a million reasons why this is a bad idea…" I paused before finishing. "But right now, all I can think of are the few million reasons I need this. Her being one of them."

"So, is that a yes?"

"That's a…yes. That is a definite yes," I felt guilty for betraying Miley, but I could almost hear Nick smiling on the other end.

"But how can I be sure you won't dump me like you did her?"

"Because I want to be with you more than anyone I've ever met."

The answer sounded a little cheesy and cinematic, but sincere. I just couldn't believe he'd said it. I was sort of speechless. Then he surprised me even more.

"Hey, do you wanna come over…"

My breath caught in my throat as I looked over at Miley, asleep on the couch.

"You mean right now? It's one in the morning?"

"I know. I just want to see you. Is that weird? I promise. This is a totally gentlemanly offer. I don't want you to think I'm the kind of guy who has booty calls."

"Oh, I didn't…" I answered, nervous all of a sudden. Was I really considering this?

"Please?" he said softly. There were few moments in my life when every single one of my defenses crumbled. This was one of those moments.

"Okay," I surrendered.

"Really? Well, great! I'll send a cab over. I'm on the fifth floor okay? Apartment 502. You got all that?"

I couldn't answer. Most of my brainpower was going toward wrapping my head around this concept. Was I really about to go over to Nick Jonas's apartment at one in the morning, just for kicks. Why, yes I was.

"Lilly, are you still there?" he said worriedly.

"Uh, yeah. That sounds, great. I'll be waiting!"

"Okay, well I'll call the cab. I'll see you in a few minutes."

When he hung up, I stared at that phone. Unbelievable. That whole conversation was…unbelievable.

I put my phone into my sweatpants pocket, realizing exactly what I was wearing. There was no way I was wearing sweatpants over to Nick Jonas's house. I also realized that I could only think of him in full name form. That was going to have to stop.

I dug through my closet, for a moment wishing Miley was up to help me, but then realizing there was no sane explanation for what I was doing. Especially if I told her who I was doing it with.

I dug out a pair of my more comfortable skinny jeans and a The Who t-shirt, passing over the Jonas t-shirts to avoid any awkwardness that would cause. I took a gray hoodie off my dresser and put it on, remembering that it was colder than crimety outside, and ran over to my desk to write Miley a quick Post-It as to where I had gone. I stuck it on her forehead where she couldn't miss it.

I grabbed my coat and keys on my way out the door, still knowing the cab wasn't going to get here for a few minutes. I stopped on the stairs as I felt the leather gloves in my pocket, and suddenly felt my face get warmer. Amazingly enough, the cab was waiting for me. I remembered that celebrities could get anything done in this city.

I got in warily, still not quite sure of the public transportation in the city, but I was too excited to deny the fastest way to Nick. I had been right. He sounded a lot better on a first name basis.

We drove up and down half the city. I never quite realized how beautiful the city was in winter. Aside from the sludge that lined the streets, the snow and icicles were beautiful. They were even more so where people had left up Christmas lights that glowed against the white crystals. I barely noticed when we stopped in front of a tall, yet elegant apartment building. I went to tip the driver, who informed me that everything had been taken care of, in other words, Nick had charged my fare, and a generous tip, before I had even gotten in the car.

I stood at the button panel, which was almost as tall as I was, and found the number he'd told me. The second I pushed it, the door popped open, as if he was standing at the other end, waiting for me. Actually, that's probably exactly what he was doing.

I crossed the silent lobby, occupied by a single doorman, and got in the elevator. By the time I got to the fifth floor, I was bubbling over with excitement. When I got to his door, it was almost uncontrollable. I found myself unable to knock but was saved the trouble when he opened the door. I could tell he'd been watching out the peep-hole.

In another stroke of spontaneous hormones, he wrapped me in his arms and kissed me. My face went from frostbitten red to kissed red within seconds, and I couldn't stop. Suddenly, he regained composure from his little self-combustion session and pulled back. I stared at him, mouth open, as he bit his bottom lip, tasting the kiss again. I was tempted to inform him there were other ways of doing that, but thought better of it as he nervously drove his fingers through his curls.

"Sorry, pent up hormones…" he said with a few nervous chuckles.

"It's okay…I've had quite a lot of those too as of late…" I added nervously as I tried to tame my own hair with a shaky hand.

He gave me a thankful smile, "Do you want to come in?"

I nodded as he moved over in the doorway to let me slide past him. He watched me as I stripped the gloves off, smiling with a little possessiveness. I shoved them carefully into my pockets before handing him my coat. While he was out of the room, I also took off the hoodie, feeling freakishly warm. I could hear Elvis Costello's "Almost Blue" in the background

I put it over one of the kitchen chairs, looking at the papers strewn across the table top. There were a few scribbled-on legal pads, along with books of lined sheet music, and a stack of burned CDs. I could see a guitar placed against the wall next to a keyboard. On the opposite side of the room, there was a drum set near the balcony, probably to mute some of the sound.

When I got closer to the couch, I could see a copy of _Catcher in the Rye_ open over the arm. I smiled, knowing he'd picked it up on the way home from my suggestion.

I heard a door close behind me and looked up to find him staring at me, staring back at him. I don't think either of us could believe the situation we were in. He broke the stare and scrambled over to the table, furiously stacking sheet music.

"I'm sorry about the musician's mess. I've been trying to write a new song, but it's just not working. I really shouldn't be having company over without cleaning up but…"

I walked over to where he stood and placed one of my hands on his wrist. He stopped his movement and looked up at me.

"Don't worry about it. You should see my condo when Miley leaves town. I'm a total slob."

He smiled for a second before glancing toward the refrigerator, "You want something to drink?"

_A tall glass of you, maybe?_ I strangle the thought before I could say it, but laughed aloud. Why were all these cheesy lines popping into my head? It was embarrassing.

"What's so funny?" he asked, leaning toward me, though he could have heard me from across the kitchen.

"You don't want to know…" I whispered as he leaned a little farther in, wanting the answer. I stuttered out the line and he grinned.

"Are we talking in Starbucks tall, or REAL tall…" I could feel my breath shake as he leaned in closer, only centimeters away from my lips.

"Real tall…" I breathed.

"That can be arranged," he said arrogantly before closing the distance. I closed my eyes and tried to memorize every feeling, from my back pressing into the table, to the curls at the nape of his neck, tangled in my fingers, to the absolutely indescribable effect his lips were having on mine. I didn't want to breathe. I would have rather suffocated than stop this kiss, but Nick had to go and have more control than I did.

He pulled away, his mouth open and eyes blinking, and his hands moved from my waist back to the edge of the table. He still leaned over me and stared into my eyes. I caught every single glint of color in his chocolate, expresso, russet, mahogany eyes, as they stared into mine.

"Wow. That was…nice," he started.

"Yeah, VERY…nice," I answered. I could tell my lips were swollen and my face flushed, but I couldn't care.

"You wouldn't want to…?"

"Please," I said as I pulled his face down to mine. This time, I had to hold myself upright, because his hands moved up to my face as he tangled his fingers in my hair. This kiss was just as passionate, but shorter. We were both totally out of breath.

He leaned backward slowly walking over the entertainment center with a smug look on his face. I still couldn't move. He'd drained all my energy out through my mouth, my very impressionable mouth.

He rifled through his DVD collection before pulling one out, "Have you ever seen Say Anything?"

"Marry me," I uttered before breaking into a smile. I had actually tripped over Mr. Perfect. Score one for Lilly.

"Maybe later, but right now we should probably just watch the movie," he answered, matching my inebriated smile.

I submitted, sitting next to him on the comfy leather couch. He draped a blanked over us, and I leaned into him, feeling the softness of his shirt and the rise and fall of his breathing. After comforting Miley all night, this was nice.

The last thing I remembered was looking up at him as he smiled back at me, one of his hands subconsciously stroking my hair. With that image in my mind, I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.

When I woke up, sunlight was streaming through the curtains. I closed my eyes and tried to cling to every moment of the dream I'd just had. It consisted of falling asleep in the arms of Nick Jonas, watching Say Anything after a thoroughly delicious makeout session.

I tried to cover my eyes and get back to the dream, but I could tell that I needed to get up. I sat up and realized that I wasn't in my room, nor was I at our condo, but this place was vaguely familiar.

"Good morning," I heard a male voice say. I looked over to the table where Nick sat. He looked to be scratching out lyrics on one of the legal pads. His guitar was perched on his lap, but he stood up and set the guitar against the wall. He moved toward the kitchen, and I could see him across the counter, fussing with various pans.

"You want some breakfast?" he asked, though obviously already in the process of making it.

"Uh, sure, yeah…" I said warily. "How long have you been up?"

I tried to arrange my hair in something that resembled human structure before I got up and walked over to the counter. He turned toward me as he started mixing eggs in a bowl.

"Not long. I just got an idea for a song and I had to write it down."

I turned around and glanced at his notebook, "This song wouldn't happen to be about me, would it?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said, confirming my suspicions.

I reached for the notebook, but he managed to get across the room and take it before I could see anything. He opened a drawer on one of his side tables and shoved it in.

"Nobody sees my songs before they're done. Not even you, and you're the closest to the top since my dad, okay?"

I tried to hide the disappointment on my face, "But I'll hear it eventually, right?"

"Eventually…yes," he answered, lowering his spatula from its defensive position and walking back over to the stove to make breakfast. With nothing else to stare at, I stared at the muscles of his back and shook my head.

"This cannot be real," I said to myself. As I said it, Nick put a plate of eggs in front of me. He sat down in the seat next to me and dug into his own eggs.

"That is exactly what I thought when I woke up with you on my shoulder," he said before taking another bite.

"I must have looked like the yeti," I said, running my fingers through my tangled hair once again.

"You looked beautiful," he said, looking up at me and pausing before he started chewing again.

I just stared at him, unable to put it through my brain that it was weird to do so. He'd just said I was beautiful, when I was positive I looked like crap. That had never happened before.

I opened my mouth to say something, unsure what "something" was, but was interrupted by my cell phone, which went off. I was struck with horror when I realized what I'd changed my ringtone to. Nick chuckled as he heard "Burnin' Up" fill his dining room.

I scoffed at him and he went back into the kitchen to dispose of his plate. I looked at the screen and suddenly felt terribly guilty. It was Miley.

"Hey Miles…" I said. I knew I sounded suspicious, but I couldn't help it. At the moment, I was trying to catch Nick's eyes, praying for him to be quiet.

"Oh god, Lilly. Where are you?"

I got up, unable to sit still. Lying had never come easy to me. "Uh, didn't you get my message? I'm, uh, at, uh, somebody's, uh, house."

"At who's house?" she asked the one question I was trying to avoid.

"Well, that guy I met yesterday," I looked up at Nick, who stared at the counter. "He, uh, called me last night and wanted me to come over."

"You responded to a booty call? Lilly!"

I faced away from Nick as I answered, "It was not a booty call! We just talked…"

"Talked?" she asked in a flat tone. I didn't even believe what I'd said.

"Well, we talked and made out, okay? But that was it," I said to reassure her. She seemed to like this response better.

"Well, are we still going shopping today? Or have you made, um, other plans?"

I could here the quotation marks hovering over the word "other" and I rolled my eyes. "We can go shopping. I'll just take a shower and head over that way. You want to meet at that diner on 5th?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess," she said, sounding a little miffed. She'd wasted most of my night last night and she was miffed that I'd had a little fun after she went to sleep. I held my anger for another time.

"I'll see you in about an hour then. Alright, bye," I said before she could respond.

I turned to Nick, who had by then gone around me as I paced and started to pretend to read _Catcher in the Rye_. He looked up at me as I hung up, and I knew I had a hard time concealing my disappointment.

"That was Miley," I stated matter-of-factly.

"I heard," he answered, staring up at me.

"I promised her we'd go shopping today. And I think she needs it to, well you know…"

I knew he could fill in the blanks. _She needs it to get over you._

"I get it," he confirmed. "What about tonight?"

"I don't think I'm doing anything," I answered wryly. "Why?"

"Do you want to go out to dinner with me?" he asked. Though I knew it was coming, I couldn't help but smile.

"I'm good enough for dinner?" I asked sarcastically.

He stood up and brushed his thumb along my jaw. "You're good enough for desert."

Our lips met for just a second, and then hovered. He held my chin up and searched my eyes for something, before dropping his hand and walking over into what I assumed was his bedroom.

He came back with a towel and t-shirt. "You'll have to wear your own jeans."

I nodded and thanked him before heading into the bathroom to take a shower. When I emerged, he was back to writing. He looked up at me and smiled.

"There's a hair dryer under the sink," he added, reading my mind. I turned around and walked back to the bathroom. As I dried my hair, I couldn't help but notice the shirt he'd given.

He'd told People Magazine it was one of the things he couldn't live without. And I was wearing it. I hummed along to "Alison" as I stared at the picture of Elvis Costello on the shirt. If he was willing to let me borrow one of the things he couldn't live without, did that mean he couldn't live without me? I shook that thought out of my head for the moment, and put it on file for another day.

"Do you have eyeliner?" I yelled toward him, pretty sure of the answer. He surprised me by walking up behind me and reaching into a drawer, pulling out a black eyeliner pencil.

He couldn't miss my face in the mirror and he responded, "Just don't ask."

He reached into another drawer and pulled out a toothbrush. There was an entire drawer of them, and I felt mildly aware that he must have people over a lot. He looked at me as if reading my mind.

"I'm prone to losing them. Having you over, having anyone over is, well, rare."

I smiled, losing most of my inhibitions for the time being. I brushed my teeth and put it in the cup with his, overly hopeful that I may need it again.

When I came back out, Nick was wearing his coat and held mine in his arms. His briefcase was over his shoulder. "I've got to head into the studio."

"On Sunday?" I asked, layering on my hoodie before taking my jacket.

"They're so used to it, they gave me a key," he answered as we walked to the elevator.

When we hit the doors, it sort of dawned on us that we were about to part. We looked each other in a way I can't explain. I wanted to say something, anything to keep from leaving, but he beat me to it.

"We're going in the same direction aren't we? We could totally share a cab."

"Totally," I answered a little breathlessly. I was so glad I had the time downtown traffic gave us to be with him.

"Great," he said as he opened the door for me, ignoring the doorman. He smiled at me as he hailed a taxi and I smiled back. _Why yes Nick, yes it is._

* * *

**Okay, so none of you will believe me when I say I'm sorry, but I really, really am. But this sort of made up for it didn't it? I especially liked the makeout scene. One of my friends once commented that everything I wrote ended with a makeout session. Well here you go Chels. It was in the middle this time :D**


	3. Then He Kissed Me

**I'm starting this one as soon as the last one was finished, just to be safe. I don't want to leave you guys hanging for MONTHS again. Once again, really sorry for that. Anyway, I'm thinking about making a playlist for this story. What do you guys think? By the way, the chapter titles are going to be songs. The first two were "Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop" by Landon Pigg, and "Till We Ain't Strangers Anymore" by Bon Jovi and LeAnn Rimes. This one is "Then He Kissed Me" by the Crystals. There's a lack of actual kissing in this chapter, but if you've seen _Adventures in Babysitting_, you'd get it.**

**Disclaimer: I just reached car status. Owning a Jonas or Hannah Montana is a little unrealistic, don't you think? And all music used, especially my overwhelming Elvis Costello influence, belongs to the respective owners.**

**Chapter Three**

_But I don't want to!_ I heard a three-year-old mini me screaming in my head. I could see the restaurant up ahead, and I could feel my hand clutching his, not wanting to let go. If only I hadn't promised Miley we'd go shopping. I might as well have promised her the world.

"Seeing as picking you up at your house is probably a bad idea, I'll pick you up at our Starbucks, okay? Seven o'clock?" I could tell he was having the same disgruntled feelings I was about leaving.

I nodded, and he leaned down and kissed my cheek for appearances, but he purposely kissed the edge of my mouth too. It felt horrible naughty. I squeezed his hand once as I got out of the cab, trying to block him as best I could. I knew from experience that Miley always fought for a window seat.

I resisted the urge to turn around, knowing he was watching me go, and walked as assuredly as I could manage into the café. As expected, Miley had wrestled her way into a window seat, and when the bell over the door rang, she called me towards her.

My butt hadn't even hit the seat before she started the third-degree. I had braced myself for it, but I still wasn't sure I could lie to her face without giving myself away.

"Tell me everything!" she squealed. Well I knew I wasn't going to do that. But I had come up with a story that vaguely resembled the truth, with names changed for the liar's protection.

"Well, yesterday I ran into this guy on the street and I pretty much spilled my coffee all over him, but HE wanted to replace it. So we went to Starbucks and we started talking…and talking…and talking, which is why I was late getting home. And he walked me home and kissed me on the doorstep and got my number. Well, after you were asleep, I called him…just to talk," I added hastily, hoping that sounded reasonable, since the truth obviously wasn't. "And he asked me to come over so I did, and he kissed me, and kissed me, and kissed me, and we watched Say Anything and he made me breakfast and gave me his shirt…and…he's perfect."

I finished my schpiel breathlessly, realizing that most of it had actually been the truth. That all went to pot when she asked her next question.

"What's his name?" she said excitedly. My heart dropped. I had PLANNED on using a fake name, but I had never actually THOUGHT of one.

"His name…his name is…Nnnnate! Yes, his name is Nate."

She looked at me as if I was sprouting daisies out my nose, "His name is Nate?"

"Yes," I answered assuredly. And then I got smart. "And that's all you're going to get. To you he's going to be, how did you put it? I believe you used the phrase, "tall, dark, and none of your business"?"

"Yes but that was…" she paused and made a face. "…Nick, and this is Nate. You said he gave you his shirt. Let's see it. Is he an Abercrombie guy, or more of an Urban Outfitters guy?"

I tucked my arms around my waist, glad that I'd left my hoodie on when I sat down. Leave it to Nick to give me the most recognizable shirt in America. And leave it to me to mention it. "It's just a shirt…"

"You mentioned it in your perfect speech, sandwiched between triple-kissed and perfect, so I have to assume it's not just a shirt. Come on, just unzip the hoodie a little and…"

She started reaching for the zipper and I realized I'd rather be the hand of my own doom.

"Fine!" I said as I pulled the zipper down a few inches. "But like I said, just a shirt."

But I could tell she knew. I could tell by the distraught look on her face she knew exactly what shirt it was. I also realized that I needed some heavy duty ass-covering to get out of this with all my hair and teeth.

"Nick has that shirt," she muttered. I could see the little devils rising up in her eyes. I, in turn, put on my innocent face.

"Does he? Well that's weird…Nate told me it was one of a kind," I said, feeling the flames licking my butt.

"Oh, Nate did. And you're wearing it. How very…Selena of you…"

I knew it would put her in a bad mood, but I had to choke back the insults when she said that. She had just brought up my secret boyfriend's ex whose ex, who was my boyfriend obviously, used to date her and is now dating her best friend. I'm sure there was a rule in the dating handbook about not doing that. There were also quite a few about dating your best friend's ex that I was choosing to ignore.

I counted my blessings when the waitress brought our usuals, and I waited for Miley to find something to pick at, but it seemed she had pitied herself into silence. It was quite a nice change.

As usual, I finished first, and I found myself daydreaming about Nick, which I hoped Miley didn't notice as she poked at the croutons in her salad. I felt my phone vibrating, glad I'd turned off the ringtone that would have made Miley explode, and saw that I had a text.

_**I'm thinking of you too**_

I didn't even have to look at the number to know who it was. I realized that I didn't have his cell number and added it quickly, but I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

"Is he taking you out tonight?" Miley said quietly, trying to make up for being a bitch earlier.

"Yeah…" I answered. I had pretty much sighed the word, still on air from his text. I added unexpectedly. "I think I love him."

Miley choked on her sweet tea, "Has someone been slippin' love potion into the water in this city? First Nick and now you! What is going on?"

I was so glad she hadn't made that slight connection. I she had, well, my ass would have been grass.

"I don't know. I just, I've never felt like this before," I said, making revelations out loud. "You know me, I went to his house last night, and I just don't do that! But it was…" I remembered Nick's word "…_great_."

"Do you really think you love him? The last time you said that, it was Oliver, and you took thirteen years to figure that one out. And honestly, it took you two years to realize those first twelve and a half years were probably the best."

"I know, but this is different. With Oliver it was all cutesy, Lillypop/Olliepop, little pecks and sharing sodas. With Nnnate," I said, slipping for a second. "It takes everything I have to stay out of his pants."

"I was going to say you were moving too fast, but a guy had you sleep over at his house and didn't want to get in your pants?"

"Well, he wears a purity ring…" I said without thinking, before mentally slapping a hand over my mouth. That was going to give it away. I mean, how many guys in this city could possible wear purity rings and own this exact shirt. Oh, and fall in love on the same day. She had to put it together, she just had to…

But she didn't.

"Wow," she continued. "You really may have found Mr. Perfect. Can I just say that if for some reason you get tired of him, I am totally ready to take your leftovers?"

You would be wouldn't you, considering I stole him from you? I felt bad for thinking it, but I was pretty sure I'd have to wrap my head around that concept. Right after I was done wrapping my head around the fact I was dating Mr. Perfect.

Mr. Nate Perfect

I let out a chuckle, making sure it was in my head this time. The last time I'd given away what I'd laughed to myself about…well actually, that wasn't too horrible. It was actually pretty _great_. Nick was pretty synonymous with _great_, and all the connotations it came with.

I was pulled out of my reverie when Miley stood up, "You ready?"

For a round of you trying on expensive clothes and me telling you how great you look. Why…

"Sure," I said, smiling. If I wanted to admit it to myself, shopping with Miley was fun albeit expensive. It was a lot better when she…

"And for once we have a mission! You have a hot date tonight, and we need to find the perfect outfit…" I looked at her, eyebrows raised. "…on my tab. I will even allow Italian to celebrate true love."

"Aha!" I said. This is the best part about being friends with Miley. We used each other, but for the best reasons possible. And we'd probably take a bullet for each other. This Nick thing was totally one of a kind, and would probably be a thing of the past by the time we were married with kids, and Nick and I were, hopefully, that is…

"Cute shoes!" Miley squealed. I recall a fight with Tyra Banks over a pair of cute pumps, and though I love shoes, I'm more of the hi-top person than the stiletto person. Not that I didn't enjoy a cute stiletto now and then. I smiled as she dragged me into the store. If for no other reason, the place was really warm.

God forgive me for giving Miley a mission. Instead of looking for cute shoes for HER, within seconds, I was covered in shoes of all shapes and sizes. I groaned as I felt a stiletto heel pressing into my chest.

"Miley, how are we going to build the perfect outfit around shoes?" I said, as I started removing the shoes with the biggest heels, the biggest…pokiest heels, and set them next to me on the bench.

It looked like this time the daisies sprouting out of my nose had been replaced by sunflowers. "You can build a career, marriage, and a retirement fund around shoes Lilly. We can definitely build an outfit around them."

I rolled my eyes, not believing her until I spotted them across the room. For the second time in as many days, I was in love. I shoved the pile of shoes off my lap and walked over to them as if I was Indiana Jones and they were some sort of priceless relic.

Miley followed my eyes and broke into a smile. "You really have the hots for this guy don't you? Those are some very RED shoes."

Within seconds, my sneakers were off and I was standing three inches higher. Oh I felt hot. Even in a hoodie and my boyfriend's shirt, I felt like a supermodel. I was seriously about to strike a pose.

"So these are them?" Miley asked, judging by the look on my face.

I nodded furiously, and she forced me to take them off so she could pay for them. I pouted as I put my winter coat back on, but brightened the littlest bit when Miley handed me the bag.

I spent the distance to the next store arguing with her about wearing a dress. I had long gotten over my fear of them, but I was also aware that it was below freezing outside, and I was pretty sure I couldn't sweet talk my legs out of that fact.

"Come on Lilly, beauty is pain! Go ask Joan Rivers, or my Aunt Dolly. Women a hundred years ago would have killed for plastic surgery!"

I stared at her, "You haven't actually been considering…"

She looked shocked. "No! Well not yet anyway. After I pop out a few kids, though…A nip here, a tuck there, and badabing! I'm twenty-three again!"

I looked down at my Italian shoes and decided I would let her keep that fantasy for a few more decades. She stopped and dragged me into a boutique I usually wouldn't be caught dead in. Like I had before, I found a seat and took off my coat, just waiting for Miley to stop spinning around like the lovechild of the Tasmanian Devil and a tumble drier.

I managed to close my eyes for a few seconds, only to open them and find Miley tapping her foot with a hand on her hip. "Well come on! Hoodie off, we have sexy to make."

As I unzipped my hoodie, I thought to ask her how you made sexy, but thought against it when her eyes flashed to my shirt and flashed something. Jealousy or anger I wasn't sure, but I wasn't about to find out. She put on her fake happy face as I crossed my arms over the design on the shirt.

"…Well, we're going with the classic red dress. Well, seventeen classic red dresses, so you better start trying them on," she said with a submitting smile. I think she'd decided that this was my day.

I smiled in understanding as I took the pile of red dresses out of her hands and went into the changing room.

By the time we had gotten to the ninth dress, we had gained the attention of the women behind the counter, who had little to do since we were the only ones in the store, and suddenly the dresses were being judged by Simon Cowell and his little minions.

When we got to the sixteenth dress (figures, right?), I knew I had found the one. I didn't even need to walk out and look in the mirror. It just felt right.

I knew I was right when I stepped out of the changing room and spun once. They all nodded. I walked over to the three-way mirror and spun once. This was it.

It was a deep shade of scarlet, and the back was low enough to skim my waist. And it was sparkly. That part was quite distracting. It skimmed my knees and looked very…glamorous. And I usually wasn't glamorous.

Miley handed me the box with the shoes in it and I put them on. One of the assistants handed her a necklace and she walked over. I lifted my hair as she strung the pearls around my neck. She put one hand on my shoulder and smiled.

"And you said we couldn't build the perfect outfit around shoes."

* * *

**Okay, I know this one was shorter than the others, but I wanted it to be about just the girls, so I could get into the date in the next chapter. I hope you don't mind. Please review :D**


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